Meanwhile, the 1st grade is calling for B!
[Note that dawn is just breaking as Austin heads for school, but the sun is up an hour later when Braden leaves.]
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Back to School, 2009
Off for the first day of high school!
Meanwhile, the 1st grade is calling for B!
[Note that dawn is just breaking as Austin heads for school, but the sun is up an hour later when Braden leaves.]
Meanwhile, the 1st grade is calling for B!
[Note that dawn is just breaking as Austin heads for school, but the sun is up an hour later when Braden leaves.]
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Merry Christmas - Online Newsletter 2008
Dear Family and Friends,
Congratulations! You have found our first (annual?) online Christmas Newsletter.
If this is your first visit to our family blog, let me apologize upfront for making you type that long blog title into your web browser. At the time I picked it out, I thought it was a clever play on words - "Breakfast at Tiffany's" - now it just seems like a long, difficult website address.
When 2008 began, we were in the heart of Intermediate School basketball season with weekly trips to the gym to watch Austin play basketball. We don't know what switch was flipped the summer of 2007, but when school started that fall, he went out for football even though he had never (I'm using the word NEVER) played organized football before. He made the team, but was not a big fan of playing defense, where he got positioned. We went from football to basketball (hadn't played since he was 6 or 7 years old) and did so well the head coach of the PE department named him "most improved" by the end of the season. After basketball, Austin made the golf team (an intermediate school with a golf team - is that sweet!) and got to hit golf balls and play Par-3 golf courses all week after school. He loved the comraderie of being on a basketball team, but probably liked the game of golf the most of all three sports.
In early spring, Braden began playing on his first baseball team (coach pitch), having outgrown t-ball. He got to be on a team with the twin boys from next door who are his best buddies, which made it a great experience. He is quite a slugger - one of the few kids who hit the coach's pitches every game without having to use a tee (after getting 5 pitches to get a hit). Defense was less appealing to him, as it was too slow paced, too structured and not violent enough. He has a wonderful coach who looks like he will be staying with this same group for a number of years.
In March, Shelley made a long-anticipated return to the workplace securing a part-time job as Administrative Assistant, Writer, Photographer and Bill Collector, plus other duties as assigned. She works for a magazine called Bay Area Houston and is enjoying it greatly. She has learned lots of useful information about the local community - where to buy fresh seafood, great restaurants, fun activities - and regularly gets tickets to attend fun events on behalf of the magazine. In the picture on the right, she is with the boys for a special backstage look at the "Sharks" exhibit at Moody Gardens. They got to get up close to sharks and other cool ocean animals. One of the favorite parts of her job is driving over the Clear Lake Channel every morning, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico shortly after sunrise. The beach and ocean have always made her feel peaceful, which is a good thing! We've also gotten to see a big-time magic show, an antique car and boat show, with more to come.
In March a great tradition was renewed with a "Sib Campout". Brad's siblings returned to the wild - though this time with seven kids under 12 years old - for two nights and two days of hiking, fishing, cooking out and freezing our butts off. The weather was so cold that we all would have qualified for our Eskimo Merit Badge, had it been a sanctioned Cub Scouts of America event. The camp was at Dinosaur State Park just outside of Granbury, TX and everyone had a fantastic time. 2009 will certainly see a return to the woods for a big campout with aunts, uncles and cousins!
As much as the boys love camping, there is no activity indoors or outdoors that makes our boys happier than being at the beach. We have been blessed in our move to League City two years ago to have access to Galveston Beach within a 30-minute car ride. That not only makes it easy
to sneak down there for a quick weekend trip, or to see the annual sandcastle tournament, but it also makes it an imperative to visit the beach whenever we have visitors from "up north". This summer we had visits from Brad's parents, who enjoyed a windy day at the beach watching the boys. Shelley's niece visited with her parents, (Shelley's sister Jamie and her husband Jeff), and the weather was perfect. The boys played football, bodysurfed and entertained their 20-month old cousin, who looked absolutely fabulous in her white and red bikini!
Cousins Jefferson and Jacob visited with their mom (Brad's sister Julie) and they, too, got to go to the beach. The ride on the Bolivar ferry resulted in multiple porpoise sitings, and the weather was great. Four boys ran amok on the beach that day, my friends, while Uncle Brad took a little nap in his beach chair. (Thanks, Sis!) The only regular visitors we did not get to entertain this year were the Blair and Andrea Horst family, which has been a Labor Day tradition. Weather and circumstances prevented that visit, but we hope to get them all sandy in 2009.
Austin became a teenager this summer, and the whole neighborhood found out about it thanks to a banner we placed on the garage door. He was mortified about the banner, which made it all the more satisfying for his parents. He has good friends, makes straight "A's" in all advanced-placement classes, is helpful around the house and a great big brother. As teenagers go, we got very lucky with this one.
The end of summer and the return of the school year marked a major milestone for Braden, who started kindergarten and full days of school for the first time. He was very excited and proud on the first day of school, and is pictured here with his brother looking very big. Braden loves his teacher and has made friends with several boys - and girls - in his class. He likes PE and music the best for his electives, and ran in a 1K run as part of his fall festival (below). 
Austin started 8th grade - his last year of intermediate school - and was excited to return to campus as part of the "upperclassmen". He opted out of football this year, deciding to put all his focus on basketball and golf. He is taking Spanish for the first time and enjoyed debating presidential politics with his social studies teacher.
The end of summer also meant that Shelley returned to her spot as a Vice President - Membership on the PTA board at Austin's school for one last year. She also started back in her Community Bible Study, which she absolutely loved in Cypress. Last year the Clear Lake CBS was doing the study from "Acts" that the Cypress CBS did in 2006-2007, so Shelley was happy to start back this year on a new study - major and minor prophets. She loves the homework and the weekly meetings with a new set of friends, and she is becoming very wise in God's Word. Brad was asked this year to volunteer on the Bay Area Houston Economic Partnership "Education and Workforce Development" committee. (We just call it BAHEP.) We finally found a church home and are feeling more "at home" in League City than we have felt anywhere in a long time.
Which made Hurricane Ike all that more frightening. Shelley and the boys evacuated well before the storm threatend, but Brad stayed behind to work at the hospital. (Brad posted updates during the storm here.) We were blessed to avoid any serious damage to our home, but know lots of folks who were not spared. The one trip Shelley has made back to Galveston since the storm was bracing, as the island was still a mess a month after landfall, with debris and trash everywhere, homes destroyed, businesses closed and familiar landmarks from visits to the island just gone. We don't know if the island will ever return to the way it was during our lifetimes.
Braden played soccer this fall (again with the twins from next door - plus their older brother) and volunteered to play goalie everytime he could. As much as he liked running around, he thought being the last line of defense for his team was the best.
Mom and Dad were busting at the seams with pride the night Austin was officially made a part of the National Junior Honor Society. Here he is with his official certificate, dying inside because we insisted on taking his picture in front of his peers. He goes to monthly meetings before school and has community service projects he has to do to maintain his eligibility, in addition to maintaining his grades. Basketball season has started up again, and he is playing better this year than last. Hard to believe he will be in high school next year!
Which brings us up to the Christmas season. We decided it was time to take Braden to his first "Nutcracker Ballet", so we got tickets and planned a whole evening downtown. Dinner was at a nice restaurant, followed by a short walk to the theater for the performance. We visited the Nutcracker Market in the lobby before taking our seats. Braden was very impressed with the performance, literally on the edge of his seat for the first 15 to 20 minutes. Austin was more "cool" than that, but still enjoyed himself. We were all getting a little sleepy by the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy", but everyone had a great time. Can I confess that the Amarillo Ballet company had a better production - though not better dancers - than the Houston Ballet? It's true...
We hope you have had a good 2008 and enjoy family and friends at Christmas. Bookmark our blog and check back in from time to time. We'll try to post pics and little updates throughout the year.
Congratulations! You have found our first (annual?) online Christmas Newsletter.
If this is your first visit to our family blog, let me apologize upfront for making you type that long blog title into your web browser. At the time I picked it out, I thought it was a clever play on words - "Breakfast at Tiffany's" - now it just seems like a long, difficult website address.
When 2008 began, we were in the heart of Intermediate School basketball season with weekly trips to the gym to watch Austin play basketball. We don't know what switch was flipped the summer of 2007, but when school started that fall, he went out for football even though he had never (I'm using the word NEVER) played organized football before. He made the team, but was not a big fan of playing defense, where he got positioned. We went from football to basketball (hadn't played since he was 6 or 7 years old) and did so well the head coach of the PE department named him "most improved" by the end of the season. After basketball, Austin made the golf team (an intermediate school with a golf team - is that sweet!) and got to hit golf balls and play Par-3 golf courses all week after school. He loved the comraderie of being on a basketball team, but probably liked the game of golf the most of all three sports.
In early spring, Braden began playing on his first baseball team (coach pitch), having outgrown t-ball. He got to be on a team with the twin boys from next door who are his best buddies, which made it a great experience. He is quite a slugger - one of the few kids who hit the coach's pitches every game without having to use a tee (after getting 5 pitches to get a hit). Defense was less appealing to him, as it was too slow paced, too structured and not violent enough. He has a wonderful coach who looks like he will be staying with this same group for a number of years.
In March, Shelley made a long-anticipated return to the workplace securing a part-time job as Administrative Assistant, Writer, Photographer and Bill Collector, plus other duties as assigned. She works for a magazine called Bay Area Houston and is enjoying it greatly. She has learned lots of useful information about the local community - where to buy fresh seafood, great restaurants, fun activities - and regularly gets tickets to attend fun events on behalf of the magazine. In the picture on the right, she is with the boys for a special backstage look at the "Sharks" exhibit at Moody Gardens. They got to get up close to sharks and other cool ocean animals. One of the favorite parts of her job is driving over the Clear Lake Channel every morning, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico shortly after sunrise. The beach and ocean have always made her feel peaceful, which is a good thing! We've also gotten to see a big-time magic show, an antique car and boat show, with more to come.
In March a great tradition was renewed with a "Sib Campout". Brad's siblings returned to the wild - though this time with seven kids under 12 years old - for two nights and two days of hiking, fishing, cooking out and freezing our butts off. The weather was so cold that we all would have qualified for our Eskimo Merit Badge, had it been a sanctioned Cub Scouts of America event. The camp was at Dinosaur State Park just outside of Granbury, TX and everyone had a fantastic time. 2009 will certainly see a return to the woods for a big campout with aunts, uncles and cousins!As much as the boys love camping, there is no activity indoors or outdoors that makes our boys happier than being at the beach. We have been blessed in our move to League City two years ago to have access to Galveston Beach within a 30-minute car ride. That not only makes it easy
to sneak down there for a quick weekend trip, or to see the annual sandcastle tournament, but it also makes it an imperative to visit the beach whenever we have visitors from "up north". This summer we had visits from Brad's parents, who enjoyed a windy day at the beach watching the boys. Shelley's niece visited with her parents, (Shelley's sister Jamie and her husband Jeff), and the weather was perfect. The boys played football, bodysurfed and entertained their 20-month old cousin, who looked absolutely fabulous in her white and red bikini!
Cousins Jefferson and Jacob visited with their mom (Brad's sister Julie) and they, too, got to go to the beach. The ride on the Bolivar ferry resulted in multiple porpoise sitings, and the weather was great. Four boys ran amok on the beach that day, my friends, while Uncle Brad took a little nap in his beach chair. (Thanks, Sis!) The only regular visitors we did not get to entertain this year were the Blair and Andrea Horst family, which has been a Labor Day tradition. Weather and circumstances prevented that visit, but we hope to get them all sandy in 2009.
Austin became a teenager this summer, and the whole neighborhood found out about it thanks to a banner we placed on the garage door. He was mortified about the banner, which made it all the more satisfying for his parents. He has good friends, makes straight "A's" in all advanced-placement classes, is helpful around the house and a great big brother. As teenagers go, we got very lucky with this one. 
The end of summer and the return of the school year marked a major milestone for Braden, who started kindergarten and full days of school for the first time. He was very excited and proud on the first day of school, and is pictured here with his brother looking very big. Braden loves his teacher and has made friends with several boys - and girls - in his class. He likes PE and music the best for his electives, and ran in a 1K run as part of his fall festival (below). 
Austin started 8th grade - his last year of intermediate school - and was excited to return to campus as part of the "upperclassmen". He opted out of football this year, deciding to put all his focus on basketball and golf. He is taking Spanish for the first time and enjoyed debating presidential politics with his social studies teacher.
The end of summer also meant that Shelley returned to her spot as a Vice President - Membership on the PTA board at Austin's school for one last year. She also started back in her Community Bible Study, which she absolutely loved in Cypress. Last year the Clear Lake CBS was doing the study from "Acts" that the Cypress CBS did in 2006-2007, so Shelley was happy to start back this year on a new study - major and minor prophets. She loves the homework and the weekly meetings with a new set of friends, and she is becoming very wise in God's Word. Brad was asked this year to volunteer on the Bay Area Houston Economic Partnership "Education and Workforce Development" committee. (We just call it BAHEP.) We finally found a church home and are feeling more "at home" in League City than we have felt anywhere in a long time.
Which made Hurricane Ike all that more frightening. Shelley and the boys evacuated well before the storm threatend, but Brad stayed behind to work at the hospital. (Brad posted updates during the storm here.) We were blessed to avoid any serious damage to our home, but know lots of folks who were not spared. The one trip Shelley has made back to Galveston since the storm was bracing, as the island was still a mess a month after landfall, with debris and trash everywhere, homes destroyed, businesses closed and familiar landmarks from visits to the island just gone. We don't know if the island will ever return to the way it was during our lifetimes.
Braden played soccer this fall (again with the twins from next door - plus their older brother) and volunteered to play goalie everytime he could. As much as he liked running around, he thought being the last line of defense for his team was the best.
Mom and Dad were busting at the seams with pride the night Austin was officially made a part of the National Junior Honor Society. Here he is with his official certificate, dying inside because we insisted on taking his picture in front of his peers. He goes to monthly meetings before school and has community service projects he has to do to maintain his eligibility, in addition to maintaining his grades. Basketball season has started up again, and he is playing better this year than last. Hard to believe he will be in high school next year!
Which brings us up to the Christmas season. We decided it was time to take Braden to his first "Nutcracker Ballet", so we got tickets and planned a whole evening downtown. Dinner was at a nice restaurant, followed by a short walk to the theater for the performance. We visited the Nutcracker Market in the lobby before taking our seats. Braden was very impressed with the performance, literally on the edge of his seat for the first 15 to 20 minutes. Austin was more "cool" than that, but still enjoyed himself. We were all getting a little sleepy by the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy", but everyone had a great time. Can I confess that the Amarillo Ballet company had a better production - though not better dancers - than the Houston Ballet? It's true...We hope you have had a good 2008 and enjoy family and friends at Christmas. Bookmark our blog and check back in from time to time. We'll try to post pics and little updates throughout the year.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Halloween, 2008
The first picture in this year's Halloween series is Braden dressed as "The Big Bad Bunny". His school had a Kindergarten parade today of the kids dressed as one of their favorite characters from a book. Braden brought his book "The Big Bad Bunny" to school, but several of his classmates recognized him without the book. It was all thanks to Aunt Kerry, who (along with Uncle Steve) gave Braden the book a year or two ago. We re-read it just this week, as it is one of his favorites.
Picture number 2 is Braden in the Halloween costume of his choosing this year - an Egyptian. The hat was something Sheila found at a costume shop, then she made the rest to go with the hat. Jamie helped with the eye makeup. When I say we have no idea what he will want to be next year...
Finally, Austin. It is safe to say his original plan - to go as an elf - did not work out due to the lack of availability of green elf-like fabric in the Southeast Houston market. (I blame Ike.) The green felt Sheila found at Michael's on Thursday made a body covering that looked like a very bad bridesmaid dress. VERY bad. So he decided to go as an off-duty elf. Clearly a lame excuse to squeeze one more year of panhandling for candy out of the neighorhood.
We rode on the trailer with the neighbors all over Claremont, and the boys had a great time. Sorry we missed the "Sloppy Joe the Plumbers" with you all though!
Picture number 2 is Braden in the Halloween costume of his choosing this year - an Egyptian. The hat was something Sheila found at a costume shop, then she made the rest to go with the hat. Jamie helped with the eye makeup. When I say we have no idea what he will want to be next year...
Finally, Austin. It is safe to say his original plan - to go as an elf - did not work out due to the lack of availability of green elf-like fabric in the Southeast Houston market. (I blame Ike.) The green felt Sheila found at Michael's on Thursday made a body covering that looked like a very bad bridesmaid dress. VERY bad. So he decided to go as an off-duty elf. Clearly a lame excuse to squeeze one more year of panhandling for candy out of the neighorhood.
We rode on the trailer with the neighbors all over Claremont, and the boys had a great time. Sorry we missed the "Sloppy Joe the Plumbers" with you all though!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Note to Self...
I need to change the password to my blog to keep these others off. I had just created a literary mood where I had you right where I wanted you, then Little Miss Sunshine and Jimmy Olsen come in and turn right to the last page of the book!
"One thing, sleep, unstable, blah blah blah, they all lived happily ever after. The end." Pitiful!
Monday was indeed a much more normal day. I shave in my pitch dark bathroom with a flashlight in my left hand and a razor in my right. Time to get back to normal, even if I don't yet feel normal - fake it until you make it!
I may not be much use during an emergency evacuation, but on Monday when the subject turns to the "Employee Assistance Reaction" portion of the disaster, everyone better just stand back. I create a list of five priorities for providing support to our employees who have suffered loss in the storm, list out details, and then start making assignments. Things start happening.
By 9:00am, I'm briefing the CEO and COO in the Command Center on the initiatives that are under way, and their reaction is overwhelmingly positive.
My full HR staff is back on duty, and this cheers me. They are all eager to help, and begin acting and reacting in ways that encourages me about their being a part of the team.
At about 9:45am, an announcement is made overhead: "Code Yellow all clear". The formal disaster is over.
Monday is as busy a day as the last two have been. But today I am planning, coordinating, leading and it goes by fast and feels meaningful. Useful. Still, there are so many who have suffered so much loss, it is not an easy day.
I get home at 11 o'clock, make a peanut butter and honey sandwich on bread that is a day or two away from being too stale to eat. Grab some Pringles. I'm standing in my dark kitchen, eating my sandwich and chips when it hits me. The neighbor has been running the generator to our refrigerator to keep the food from really spoiling. I had beer in the fridge last week. I open the door and check the temperature of the closest beer. It is ice cold. I open the bottle and drink the best tasting beer I have ever had in my life. I used to think that beer never tasted better than on a golf course or at a baseball game. Wrong. Post-hurricane beer is a pseudo-religious experience. Now I am light.
God and I still have a pretty serious conversation to have about weather, but the cool front the rain brought with it on Sunday has been a blessing. I open the windows to my bedroom and go to sleep under the cover. Eight hours. I dream for the first time in four nights.
Tuesday begins with a call from Shelley at 6:45. She wants to come home but her family wants her to stay until the electricity is back on. I tell her I think it is safe to come home, and she is off the phone in a flash.
Safe. That's the reason I told her and the boys to leave. I could not have made it through the last 96 hours worrying about them being unsafe. There was no way to be home with them to protect them myself, and the environment at the hospital I had witnessed three years earlier during Rita was not one to which I wanted the boys exposed. By ensuring their safety, Shelley boarded up the important part of my heart. The storms howled and the challenges came in great, swollen waves - but those who were most precious were safe. It was a great thing Shelley did for me - and a great sacrifice. Leaving meant she could not be here to know how our house was, and could not be here to take care of me, (which is her nature). That was tearing her up, but - and this was hardest of all - she could not let the boys know the fear and anxiety that had us both in their grip.
They all got home safe and sound, and the trespassers have gotten you up-to-date from that point of the story!
"One thing, sleep, unstable, blah blah blah, they all lived happily ever after. The end." Pitiful!
Monday was indeed a much more normal day. I shave in my pitch dark bathroom with a flashlight in my left hand and a razor in my right. Time to get back to normal, even if I don't yet feel normal - fake it until you make it!
I may not be much use during an emergency evacuation, but on Monday when the subject turns to the "Employee Assistance Reaction" portion of the disaster, everyone better just stand back. I create a list of five priorities for providing support to our employees who have suffered loss in the storm, list out details, and then start making assignments. Things start happening.
By 9:00am, I'm briefing the CEO and COO in the Command Center on the initiatives that are under way, and their reaction is overwhelmingly positive.
My full HR staff is back on duty, and this cheers me. They are all eager to help, and begin acting and reacting in ways that encourages me about their being a part of the team.
At about 9:45am, an announcement is made overhead: "Code Yellow all clear". The formal disaster is over.
Monday is as busy a day as the last two have been. But today I am planning, coordinating, leading and it goes by fast and feels meaningful. Useful. Still, there are so many who have suffered so much loss, it is not an easy day.
I get home at 11 o'clock, make a peanut butter and honey sandwich on bread that is a day or two away from being too stale to eat. Grab some Pringles. I'm standing in my dark kitchen, eating my sandwich and chips when it hits me. The neighbor has been running the generator to our refrigerator to keep the food from really spoiling. I had beer in the fridge last week. I open the door and check the temperature of the closest beer. It is ice cold. I open the bottle and drink the best tasting beer I have ever had in my life. I used to think that beer never tasted better than on a golf course or at a baseball game. Wrong. Post-hurricane beer is a pseudo-religious experience. Now I am light.
God and I still have a pretty serious conversation to have about weather, but the cool front the rain brought with it on Sunday has been a blessing. I open the windows to my bedroom and go to sleep under the cover. Eight hours. I dream for the first time in four nights.
Tuesday begins with a call from Shelley at 6:45. She wants to come home but her family wants her to stay until the electricity is back on. I tell her I think it is safe to come home, and she is off the phone in a flash.
Safe. That's the reason I told her and the boys to leave. I could not have made it through the last 96 hours worrying about them being unsafe. There was no way to be home with them to protect them myself, and the environment at the hospital I had witnessed three years earlier during Rita was not one to which I wanted the boys exposed. By ensuring their safety, Shelley boarded up the important part of my heart. The storms howled and the challenges came in great, swollen waves - but those who were most precious were safe. It was a great thing Shelley did for me - and a great sacrifice. Leaving meant she could not be here to know how our house was, and could not be here to take care of me, (which is her nature). That was tearing her up, but - and this was hardest of all - she could not let the boys know the fear and anxiety that had us both in their grip.
They all got home safe and sound, and the trespassers have gotten you up-to-date from that point of the story!
Pictures
Hey it's Austin. I took several pictures of the house when we got home yesterday. The damage in some of these pics is nothing compared to what we saw on the drive home. God was definitely watching out for our home and neighborhood. More importantly however, he kept a close eye on my dad and my family.
I now know why they use glass for windows...
That is what 110 MPH winds will do to small plants. The neat thing about that picture is that you can tell which way the wind was blowing. HA HA.
This one didn't end up too well either.
We saw quite a few of these. They proved to be very handy.
This is the worst of the damage done to our house. In case you can't tell, the fence is leaning over into our backyard.
The hurricane force winds blew our satellite dish completely backwards so we can't watch TV. That one hurt me the most. Luckily however, it proved to be a relatively easy fix and we were able to realign it this morning!!!
That is pretty much all there is to see. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers! Make sure to check out the two previous entries updated today.
I now know why they use glass for windows...
That is what 110 MPH winds will do to small plants. The neat thing about that picture is that you can tell which way the wind was blowing. HA HA.
This one didn't end up too well either.
We saw quite a few of these. They proved to be very handy.
This is the worst of the damage done to our house. In case you can't tell, the fence is leaning over into our backyard.
The hurricane force winds blew our satellite dish completely backwards so we can't watch TV. That one hurt me the most. Luckily however, it proved to be a relatively easy fix and we were able to realign it this morning!!!
That is pretty much all there is to see. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers! Make sure to check out the two previous entries updated today.
Home Safe and Sound
Hey everyone it is Shelley. I am not as eloquent at writing as Brad and I definitely have a much more subdued story, but I thought I should give an update. We have been so blessed by God to have had personal safety for our family. Our home is in wonderful shape and we have all the supplies we need. We came back yesterday with supplies and gas for us and some groceries for our neighbors. The gas and grocery lines from Huntsville all the way to Houston are insane! We came home to no power but it was restored by 9:30 p.m. Our neighbors helped us take down our storm covers on the windows and the house started to look more normal again. Our yard needs a little clean up, but since that's just about all, we are so blessed. The neighborhood next door lost their roofs and some very large trees. Parts of our neighborhood are worse but our street held up remarkably well. The boys and I were very happy to be home. Braden jumped from the car and has hardly been seen since. Our neighbors hooked our fridge to their generator so we didn't have rotten food. None of it was salvageable but at least it wasn't stinking and ruining our fridge. Everyone is pitching in and helping one another by cooking on portable stoves and grills and sharing food. It is wonderful to have such good neighbors. So many here are without food, power, homes etc... We are truly blessed and are very thankful! Brad has been through a lot and I was so anxious to get home to him! He seems much better now that we are here. He came home to a hot meal last night and a little bit of normalcy! He seemed like himself this morning. The hospital is getting back to normal slowly but surely. We are very proud of his willingness to stay and help others. He may feel non-essential but he is our hero. His boys are very proud of him and thrilled to get to see him again. He has definitely been through a lot this week. We will be taking very good care of him, so no worries Jean. The boys' schools were fine, but a lot in our district were in pretty bad shape. The schools will start back up hopefully next Tuesday. (By the way Julie, the school on Bolivar Peninsula is gone from what I have heard.) Crystal Beach and Kemah are destroyed. Galveston Island will be recovering for a long, long time. My office is still not reachable so we will see what happens there. The stories of those who stayed are terrifying and I am awfully glad my boys and I weren't here for it. Our neighbors that stayed say they will never do it again. Thanks for your prayers and thoughts. Love to all! The Horst Family
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Unstable - II
The lights have come back on. "Is the generator working?" "No, it's not just the emergency lights that are on!" The main power to the hospital from the utility company has come back on as we are gathering from all over the hospital. We crowd into the board room that has functioned as our Incident Command Center since Thursday, but it is not as crowded as usual. Many of the nursing leaders are still in the heart hospital, stabilizing patients and settling their staff.
We wait a few minutes, and the CEO comes into the room. He has just gotten off the phone with the city, and they tell him that power has indeed been restored, but the grid is still unstable. As they bring up other parts of Houston, it is causing problems which could shut us down again. The backup generator for our sister facility in Texas City, (which is under National Guard control because it has no water and suffered some structural damage, so was therefore evacuated), has already been deployed to our hospital. Until it can be brought online, it is not safe to keep our Telemetry patients in the main hospital, and the decision has been made to evacuate them from our building. Helicopters and ambulances are on their way. We will bring the patients down from the sixth floor, through the Emergency Department, load them on their transportation and keep only the least sick patients in the building.
Getting the patients evacuated quickly is critical, so "non-essential" employees will be stationed at each floor to keep everyone but evacuating patients and nurses off the elevators until the patients are gone. I spend the next hour standing in an empty hallway by the second floor elevator bank sending weary housekeepers and wary visitors to the nearest stairwell, which not 30 minutes earlier had been occupied by miracle workers and angels.
Standing alone in that hall I start to feel heavy. It's very hard to be cheerful to the few people who come by. I try, but sense that it's not believable. Tired. Feeling stupid standing here keeping people off an elevator. Non-essential indeed.
Evacuation goes off without a hitch, unless you count the patients complaining they don't want to go to another hospital, we've treated them wonderfully. "Please let me stay." I hear from our Rehab Director that all the babies are doing as well as they had been before the evacuation. I wonder - if they survive the first weeks of their lives will they ever again face so much danger?
The day shift is rotating off, so it's time to help find beds for everyone to get some needed sleep. Walking back and forth, from the main hospital to the heart hospital. My feet hurt, my knee hurts. I can't process everything that has gone on, it's too much, I can only do one thing. I do my task. Think. I can do one more thing. Done. Think. Do. Then think again.
Ten o'clock. The generator is connected and we have stationed the clinical staff in the patients' rooms so we can test to make sure it works. Only one way to do that, and it's to disconnect from city power and run the hospital on generator power. If the generator fails to power the hospital, we will switch back to city power. But the grid is so unstable, switching back on might cause the power to fail. We have no choice.
10:15. The lights flicker, but stay on. Radio crackles, "Generator's running. Let's give 'er thirty minutes." I sit in the Command Center, with about five others. The chairs are leather with tall backs. Heaviness again. Waiting. Thirty minutes. Someone sets a sandwich in front of me. Dinner. I eat.
10:50. The Director of Engineering walks into the Command Center. "We're back on main power. Generator's good." No cheering, just relief. He sits down at the other end of the table, with the CEO and CFO. They talk, smile. They did it. Saved a hospital, saved the patients. Bravado. Alpha males. They seem very far away. With main power and generator backup, the crisis has passed. Directors come in to sign out of the building for the night. I'd planned on staying, but need to be away from this place. I check in with my boss. "It's past curfew - take this letter so the police won't hassle you." I take the letter and walk to my car.
No street lights are on. No traffic lights. Maybe ten cars between the hospital and our house. I want to be stopped. Want to show someone my letter, so they can see that the Chief of the Emergency Management Division of the Texas Department of Public Safety bears witness to the fact that I am "an emergency responder or emergency team member". "What do you do at the hospital," he would ask. "I hold a flashlight and keep people off elevators," I'd say.
Our street is dark but humming with the sound of generators. I walk to the back door, go in, walk upstairs to the phone that works and call Shelley, even though it is close to midnight. We talk. She's saying, "I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry." Why does she keeps asking me to repeat things - says I'm not making sense? Heavy. "Goodnight." One thing - more damn stairs. One thing - brush my teeth. One thing - open the window. Nothing left - bed.
It's hot. I lay on top of the sheets. Non-essential. Heavy. I feel a cool breeze on my back. Pull the sheet up over me. My watch alarm starts to beep. It's six o'clock.
We wait a few minutes, and the CEO comes into the room. He has just gotten off the phone with the city, and they tell him that power has indeed been restored, but the grid is still unstable. As they bring up other parts of Houston, it is causing problems which could shut us down again. The backup generator for our sister facility in Texas City, (which is under National Guard control because it has no water and suffered some structural damage, so was therefore evacuated), has already been deployed to our hospital. Until it can be brought online, it is not safe to keep our Telemetry patients in the main hospital, and the decision has been made to evacuate them from our building. Helicopters and ambulances are on their way. We will bring the patients down from the sixth floor, through the Emergency Department, load them on their transportation and keep only the least sick patients in the building.
Getting the patients evacuated quickly is critical, so "non-essential" employees will be stationed at each floor to keep everyone but evacuating patients and nurses off the elevators until the patients are gone. I spend the next hour standing in an empty hallway by the second floor elevator bank sending weary housekeepers and wary visitors to the nearest stairwell, which not 30 minutes earlier had been occupied by miracle workers and angels.
Standing alone in that hall I start to feel heavy. It's very hard to be cheerful to the few people who come by. I try, but sense that it's not believable. Tired. Feeling stupid standing here keeping people off an elevator. Non-essential indeed.
Evacuation goes off without a hitch, unless you count the patients complaining they don't want to go to another hospital, we've treated them wonderfully. "Please let me stay." I hear from our Rehab Director that all the babies are doing as well as they had been before the evacuation. I wonder - if they survive the first weeks of their lives will they ever again face so much danger?
The day shift is rotating off, so it's time to help find beds for everyone to get some needed sleep. Walking back and forth, from the main hospital to the heart hospital. My feet hurt, my knee hurts. I can't process everything that has gone on, it's too much, I can only do one thing. I do my task. Think. I can do one more thing. Done. Think. Do. Then think again.
Ten o'clock. The generator is connected and we have stationed the clinical staff in the patients' rooms so we can test to make sure it works. Only one way to do that, and it's to disconnect from city power and run the hospital on generator power. If the generator fails to power the hospital, we will switch back to city power. But the grid is so unstable, switching back on might cause the power to fail. We have no choice.
10:15. The lights flicker, but stay on. Radio crackles, "Generator's running. Let's give 'er thirty minutes." I sit in the Command Center, with about five others. The chairs are leather with tall backs. Heaviness again. Waiting. Thirty minutes. Someone sets a sandwich in front of me. Dinner. I eat.
10:50. The Director of Engineering walks into the Command Center. "We're back on main power. Generator's good." No cheering, just relief. He sits down at the other end of the table, with the CEO and CFO. They talk, smile. They did it. Saved a hospital, saved the patients. Bravado. Alpha males. They seem very far away. With main power and generator backup, the crisis has passed. Directors come in to sign out of the building for the night. I'd planned on staying, but need to be away from this place. I check in with my boss. "It's past curfew - take this letter so the police won't hassle you." I take the letter and walk to my car.
No street lights are on. No traffic lights. Maybe ten cars between the hospital and our house. I want to be stopped. Want to show someone my letter, so they can see that the Chief of the Emergency Management Division of the Texas Department of Public Safety bears witness to the fact that I am "an emergency responder or emergency team member". "What do you do at the hospital," he would ask. "I hold a flashlight and keep people off elevators," I'd say.
Our street is dark but humming with the sound of generators. I walk to the back door, go in, walk upstairs to the phone that works and call Shelley, even though it is close to midnight. We talk. She's saying, "I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry." Why does she keeps asking me to repeat things - says I'm not making sense? Heavy. "Goodnight." One thing - more damn stairs. One thing - brush my teeth. One thing - open the window. Nothing left - bed.
It's hot. I lay on top of the sheets. Non-essential. Heavy. I feel a cool breeze on my back. Pull the sheet up over me. My watch alarm starts to beep. It's six o'clock.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Unstable
Sunday was a good day. Sunday was an awful day. It was a day of going to our house for 2 hours to see that nothing had been damaged. It was a day of the hospital’s most frightening challenge of the entire storm.
Did we really need a thunderstorm with heavy rains on Sunday morning? Rains were so heavy that there was localized flooding of roads all over Houston, mainly because the rain still had no place to go but up. It felt like getting kicked while you were already down. I got four hours sleep on the cot in my office and woke up to my phone ringing – the Incident Command Center calling with some urgent task or another. The OU cap I threw on in a hurry on my way to the Board Room drew howling complaints from our Rehab Director (UT Class of “Who Cares When”) all morning.
By 12:00 noon, the situation was secure enough in the hospital that we re-opened the ER and set up a check – out system where a limited number of Directors could leave the hospital for a couple of hours to check on their homes, get fresh clothes and (if lucky) take a hot shower in a familiar place. I left the hospital at 3:30 pm for the first time since early Friday morning. It was a peculiar feeling driving home with hardly any cars on the road, no traffic lights, no businesses open, trees and power lines down on every street. Some trees were stripped bare of all their leaves. Only a few signs remained intact in front of businesses. I was struck by how little movement there was. There was no wind, barely any cars, no people out walking or riding bikes. Even the leaves – which were quite literally everywhere – were wet and heavy on the streets, and didn’t move even for the occasional car that passed over.
I got to the house and several of our neighbors were out cleaning up, trimming tree branches, removing plywood from their windows, or just sitting in lawn chairs because it was too hot to be inside without electricity. Kids were busy playing and running about, either oblivious or indifferent to their environment and how changed it looked to me. There was no damage to our house, only plants that looked like they had been blown around by 110 mph winds. I was happy to use my own bathroom (sorry, but it’s true) and the shower was hot and so relaxing I believe I fell asleep for a minute.
I threw some clean clothes in my gym bag and headed back to the hospital. The ride back was as unreal as the ride home had been, and I pulled into the hospital parking lot feeling exhausted and dreading the pace of activities that awaited inside. As I walked up to the main entrance, it became apparent that the lobby was pitch black. We had been on generator power since Friday night, and had a diesel tanker top off all our tanks Saturday evening. Still, I knew the generator had failed for some reason. I got inside the hospital and more or less felt my way to the HR department just down the hall from the entrance and unlocked my door to retrieve my flashlight. I then ran to the Command Center to check in and ask where to go to help. The CEO told me to go to the Heart Hospital. Critically ill patients had been relocated there, and the CNO had radioed for extra help bagging (using a handheld balloon pump) patients whose ventilators had lost power when the main hospital generator went down. I went to the Heart Hospital across the street – still functioning on its generator – and saw no one. I went back toward the main hospital on the walkway over Medical Center Boulevard, looking for a way to help.
I’ve worked in hospitals since my senior year of college at Phillips, back in 1986. That psychiatric hospital had a contract with the county to accept their most mentally ill arrestees. That exposed me to extraordinary circumstances of human suffering due to psychosis and schizophrenia. I’ve seen things and heard stories in my 20+ years of working in hospitals that were shocking, outrageous, terrifying and miraculous. None of it prepared me to witness the evacuation of our Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
On the main hospital side of the crosswalk, I saw people stationed on each corner of each hallway with flashlights or green glow sticks. As I moved through this eerie black and green maze, I heard shouting. “Clear the stairwell!” “Stand aside!” Everyone parted to make room at the entrance to the stairwell. I aimed my flashlight on the floor with everyone else, and out from the stairwell door emerged three bodies, moving quietly in unison. The doctor was holding a 2 or 3 pound baby in his hands, flat on her back, right in front of his stomach. He was not looking at anything but the baby, but he walked straight ahead deliberately. On one side, a nurse was giving this impossibly small baby chest compressions with one finger. The nurse on the other side held a balloon pump, giving it barely perceptible squeezes to keep air moving in and out of her lungs. As quickly as they appeared out of the stairs, they disappeared around a corner, their path lit by nurses and techs and cops and security guards, all lining the halls, shining their lights, helping the only way they could but feeling helpless nonetheless.
We all stood motionless for a few seconds, and then everyone was off in a dozen different directions. More babies came down the stairs, but I didn’t see any more that needed the same level of attention the first baby needed. By the time I worked my way upstream to the NICU, it was nearly empty. “Brad – check the unit and make sure there’s no one left.” Rushing, flashlight darting from here to there, the unit looks like a crime scene. “I need lights in the supply room!” Rushing, pointing my flashlight at IV tubing, tiny packages of diapers, an amazing assortment of supplies, all being tossed into bags to take to the Cath Lab Recovery area across the street where the NICU beds and their fragile occupants now called home.
More rushing. “Where should we go?” “How can I help?” Then, minutes later, a call on the radio: “All Directors report to the Command Center.”
[Continued tomorrow.]
Did we really need a thunderstorm with heavy rains on Sunday morning? Rains were so heavy that there was localized flooding of roads all over Houston, mainly because the rain still had no place to go but up. It felt like getting kicked while you were already down. I got four hours sleep on the cot in my office and woke up to my phone ringing – the Incident Command Center calling with some urgent task or another. The OU cap I threw on in a hurry on my way to the Board Room drew howling complaints from our Rehab Director (UT Class of “Who Cares When”) all morning.
By 12:00 noon, the situation was secure enough in the hospital that we re-opened the ER and set up a check – out system where a limited number of Directors could leave the hospital for a couple of hours to check on their homes, get fresh clothes and (if lucky) take a hot shower in a familiar place. I left the hospital at 3:30 pm for the first time since early Friday morning. It was a peculiar feeling driving home with hardly any cars on the road, no traffic lights, no businesses open, trees and power lines down on every street. Some trees were stripped bare of all their leaves. Only a few signs remained intact in front of businesses. I was struck by how little movement there was. There was no wind, barely any cars, no people out walking or riding bikes. Even the leaves – which were quite literally everywhere – were wet and heavy on the streets, and didn’t move even for the occasional car that passed over.
I got to the house and several of our neighbors were out cleaning up, trimming tree branches, removing plywood from their windows, or just sitting in lawn chairs because it was too hot to be inside without electricity. Kids were busy playing and running about, either oblivious or indifferent to their environment and how changed it looked to me. There was no damage to our house, only plants that looked like they had been blown around by 110 mph winds. I was happy to use my own bathroom (sorry, but it’s true) and the shower was hot and so relaxing I believe I fell asleep for a minute.
I threw some clean clothes in my gym bag and headed back to the hospital. The ride back was as unreal as the ride home had been, and I pulled into the hospital parking lot feeling exhausted and dreading the pace of activities that awaited inside. As I walked up to the main entrance, it became apparent that the lobby was pitch black. We had been on generator power since Friday night, and had a diesel tanker top off all our tanks Saturday evening. Still, I knew the generator had failed for some reason. I got inside the hospital and more or less felt my way to the HR department just down the hall from the entrance and unlocked my door to retrieve my flashlight. I then ran to the Command Center to check in and ask where to go to help. The CEO told me to go to the Heart Hospital. Critically ill patients had been relocated there, and the CNO had radioed for extra help bagging (using a handheld balloon pump) patients whose ventilators had lost power when the main hospital generator went down. I went to the Heart Hospital across the street – still functioning on its generator – and saw no one. I went back toward the main hospital on the walkway over Medical Center Boulevard, looking for a way to help.
I’ve worked in hospitals since my senior year of college at Phillips, back in 1986. That psychiatric hospital had a contract with the county to accept their most mentally ill arrestees. That exposed me to extraordinary circumstances of human suffering due to psychosis and schizophrenia. I’ve seen things and heard stories in my 20+ years of working in hospitals that were shocking, outrageous, terrifying and miraculous. None of it prepared me to witness the evacuation of our Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
On the main hospital side of the crosswalk, I saw people stationed on each corner of each hallway with flashlights or green glow sticks. As I moved through this eerie black and green maze, I heard shouting. “Clear the stairwell!” “Stand aside!” Everyone parted to make room at the entrance to the stairwell. I aimed my flashlight on the floor with everyone else, and out from the stairwell door emerged three bodies, moving quietly in unison. The doctor was holding a 2 or 3 pound baby in his hands, flat on her back, right in front of his stomach. He was not looking at anything but the baby, but he walked straight ahead deliberately. On one side, a nurse was giving this impossibly small baby chest compressions with one finger. The nurse on the other side held a balloon pump, giving it barely perceptible squeezes to keep air moving in and out of her lungs. As quickly as they appeared out of the stairs, they disappeared around a corner, their path lit by nurses and techs and cops and security guards, all lining the halls, shining their lights, helping the only way they could but feeling helpless nonetheless.
We all stood motionless for a few seconds, and then everyone was off in a dozen different directions. More babies came down the stairs, but I didn’t see any more that needed the same level of attention the first baby needed. By the time I worked my way upstream to the NICU, it was nearly empty. “Brad – check the unit and make sure there’s no one left.” Rushing, flashlight darting from here to there, the unit looks like a crime scene. “I need lights in the supply room!” Rushing, pointing my flashlight at IV tubing, tiny packages of diapers, an amazing assortment of supplies, all being tossed into bags to take to the Cath Lab Recovery area across the street where the NICU beds and their fragile occupants now called home.
More rushing. “Where should we go?” “How can I help?” Then, minutes later, a call on the radio: “All Directors report to the Command Center.”
[Continued tomorrow.]
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Ike Makes Landfall on Me
(Hey it's Austin. I have been told to inform everyone that last night when he sent this email at 2:00 AM he was in no kind of good mood. Not to worry however, he says he is doing much better now after a good nights rest.)
It’s 2:00am and I’m falling asleep on the keyboard, but I wanted to touch base really quick because today was an exhausting, busy day - up running around like crazy in the middle of the night, a brief nap at 5:30am and then running around like crazy the rest of the day. I sat down at 4:00pm to take a “chair nap” – chair next to wall, pillow behind head, feet propped up on another chair – but I hadn’t been sitting for 10 minutes when the walkie talkie snapped, “Come back Brad.” “Brad?” “I’m here,” I cursed, and then got up, put on my tennis shoes and went back to settle the most recent petty crisis I had been assigned.
Today I got completed frustrated with all the busy-ness. I was exhausted, sore, running non-stop at the beck and call of the Incident Command Center in the hospital. At the height of my irritation I ran into one of my favorite nurse managers, and she was sobbing. A nurse of hers had just learned that her house had collapsed into the flood waters on Galveston. Her husband had been one of the Islanders who did not evacuate, and now the nurse was distraught with worry that her husband might be dead. This manager is one of my “Chief Morale Officers”, with lots of energy and a great smile, so seeing her in such grief was unsettling. And then, for the next 15 minutes, everywhere I walked I either heard or overheard people repeating similar stories of damage to their homes, sudden homelessness, family members they could not reach. Many were expressing the shock of realizing they didn’t know if they were better off knowing what had happened to their homes or NOT knowing.
As I walked back to the Incident Command Center, I was reminded of the scene from “Titanic” when Rose finishes telling her story of all the lives lost to the sea, and it is obvious on the faces of the treasure-hunters that they “get it” for the first time. It had suddenly dawned on me that all of the stuff we’ve been doing has not been about managing this “incident”. We have asked these scores of employees to focus their energy on caring for those who are suffering and in need, during an historic natural disaster that has caused many of them horrific personal loss. Because of our mission to care for this community, these folks subordinate their own personal needs to the needs of the many. And they have done it magnificently, all the while knowing that some degree of personal catastrophe waited for them outside.
And I cried for the first time since this all started.
It’s 2:00am and I’m falling asleep on the keyboard, but I wanted to touch base really quick because today was an exhausting, busy day - up running around like crazy in the middle of the night, a brief nap at 5:30am and then running around like crazy the rest of the day. I sat down at 4:00pm to take a “chair nap” – chair next to wall, pillow behind head, feet propped up on another chair – but I hadn’t been sitting for 10 minutes when the walkie talkie snapped, “Come back Brad.” “Brad?” “I’m here,” I cursed, and then got up, put on my tennis shoes and went back to settle the most recent petty crisis I had been assigned.
Today I got completed frustrated with all the busy-ness. I was exhausted, sore, running non-stop at the beck and call of the Incident Command Center in the hospital. At the height of my irritation I ran into one of my favorite nurse managers, and she was sobbing. A nurse of hers had just learned that her house had collapsed into the flood waters on Galveston. Her husband had been one of the Islanders who did not evacuate, and now the nurse was distraught with worry that her husband might be dead. This manager is one of my “Chief Morale Officers”, with lots of energy and a great smile, so seeing her in such grief was unsettling. And then, for the next 15 minutes, everywhere I walked I either heard or overheard people repeating similar stories of damage to their homes, sudden homelessness, family members they could not reach. Many were expressing the shock of realizing they didn’t know if they were better off knowing what had happened to their homes or NOT knowing.
As I walked back to the Incident Command Center, I was reminded of the scene from “Titanic” when Rose finishes telling her story of all the lives lost to the sea, and it is obvious on the faces of the treasure-hunters that they “get it” for the first time. It had suddenly dawned on me that all of the stuff we’ve been doing has not been about managing this “incident”. We have asked these scores of employees to focus their energy on caring for those who are suffering and in need, during an historic natural disaster that has caused many of them horrific personal loss. Because of our mission to care for this community, these folks subordinate their own personal needs to the needs of the many. And they have done it magnificently, all the while knowing that some degree of personal catastrophe waited for them outside.
And I cried for the first time since this all started.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
After the Storm....
We got through the storm fine here at the hospital. No flooding, no structural damage to the hospital. Lots of leaks and mess to clean up though.
Our neighbor's friend drove by her and our houses and said she couldn't see any obvious damage. There was no flooding.
We are very busy today preparing for admissions through the ER and transfers from other local hospitals that sustained damage.
That was some storm!
Our neighbor's friend drove by her and our houses and said she couldn't see any obvious damage. There was no flooding.
We are very busy today preparing for admissions through the ER and transfers from other local hospitals that sustained damage.
That was some storm!
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